You See but You Do Not Observe
by SonictheImpalaandDeduce
Summary: AU: Sherlock is a photographer who sees the world in a different light than everyone else. John is fascinated by this beautiful man and Sherlock quickly brings him into his world.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Observe**

John had been watching the man watch people almost all day. Every once and a while he would take a photograph, but mostly he just watched. Analyzing the groups of people passing as he sat on the park bench. Sometimes he would get up and move to a different bench, or prop his feet up on it. He even took to laying on top of a bench at one point and began taking pictures of the trees above him.

He was rather strange this man. Every Saturday on his day off John came to the park for his walk, he would take a break after and see this man. And every Saturday this man would be sitting watching people and taking photographs of them. It was strange the way he looked at everyone. As though he had never seen a human being before. Like they were some foreign creatures and he was trying to figure out how they lived. Scrutinizing their every move, like a big cat examining his next victim. But at the same time he had a look of longing. Like he wanted to live their lives and do what they were doing.

He looked like a perfectly ordinary bloke, except for the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous.

He was a younger man, rather tall and slim. His shoulders broad indicating that he had more muscle than you would think. His black coat and black curls contrasted with his pale skin. His eyes were small underneath his busy eyebrows, his cheekbones prominent even from a distance.

Regrettably John had only every seen him from a distance. But he was perfectly content with watching him watch people from where he was.

* * *

The next week began just like any other for John Watson.

He got up at 7 every morning, ate his breakfast, went to his job at the clinic then went home.

However his week did not end the same as usual.

After his regularly scheduled walk in the park he went to sit down at the same bench he did every Saturday to find a certain tall dark haired man sitting at one end of it.

John hesitated for a second than sat down on the opposite end of the bench and looked straight forward.

There was a couple holding hands walking down the path. An old man reading a newspaper on a bench. A little boy chasing a pigeon that had landed in front of him.

"Beautiful day." the man said lazily, his voice deep and smooth. John had never heard him speak but he had assumed it would sound something like that.

"Yes very." John looked sideways at the man. He was watching the boy chase another pigeon with a smile on his face. His smile was quite lovely, he seemed kinder when he smiled. His sharp features softened and his eyes and nose crinkled up. It was admittedly adorable.

John liked the fact that the man had chosen to sit at his bench today. He had been longing to get a better look at him. Now he could see his eyes and they were the most beautiful eyes John had ever seen. They were mesmerizing! Every time they moved they seemed to change colors, they would be a light blue, then a pale green, then grey. And when they looked at John they seemed to be a thousand different colors.

Oh no, they were looking at John.

He quickly averted his own eyes feeling quite embarrassed to be caught staring at another man.

"Is there something special about this bench?" The man asked his deep voice kind and calming. The fact that he had asked John a question made his mind go blank for a second. But he quickly recovered.

"No, nothing. Why do you ask?" John figured he should at least try to make conversation despite the fact that this man made him feel nervous. A good kind of nervous, the kind of nervous a schoolboy gets around a girl he fancies.

"Because every time I see you here you sit at this bench. Just this one. I assumed you would be coming today like you do every Saturday so I decided to come over here and see for myself." The man looked down at the bench and placed his hand on it. "It's surprisingly ordinary for a bench so I thought maybe it had some kind of sentimental value to you. But then I also noticed the lovely view you get from sitting here and might I say I'm rather disappointed I didn't come here sooner. You can see practically the entire park from here." He was smiling again, looking around the park with fascination as if seeing it for the first time.

John also looked around, he had never taken any notice to the fact that you really could see everything from this spot. It was quite remarkable when he thought about it, the park had always been his favorite place because it was quiet compared to the city but he now noticed the beauty of it. The huge trees, which he didn't know the name of, were dropping their leaves making for a red, yellow, and orange carpet over the paths. The fountain in the center gave the park a circular feel. There were bushes everywhere which in the spring time housed the most beautiful flowers.

John had never noticed any of this until it was pointed out to him. He had the sudden urge to learn more about this man. He wanted to know everything about him. But mostly he wanted to know how he knew that John would come here and sit on this bench.

"But how did you kn..." he began but the other man cut him off, not impolitely.

"Well I would notice wouldn't I?" he looked at John, a mischievous grin dancing across his face. "You notice things when you sit quietly and observe. For instance I noticed that you come here every Saturday, walk for about an hour then come and sit at this bench. I notice which old woman feeds which pigeons, which mother brings her children to play while she meets secretly with a man who is not her husband, I notice which men are prepared to propose to their partners. But mostly I notice when a man is watching me notice these things." he smiled again, this time looking at John with amusement.

Of course he would notice John staring at him. All this man did was watch people all day, he absolutely would notice someone watching him every Saturday.

"Oh..," John had no clue what to say, he felt like he had been caught spying (he basically had). But the other man was still smiling, not at all bothered. He noticed John's uneasiness however and tried to at least change the subject.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes." he stuck out his hand.

"Dr. John Watson." John held out his own hand. He couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. Sherlock's hand was slim and smooth where as John's was small and calloused, his fingers chubby. But Sherlock didn't seem to notice, the smile never leaving his face.

"Doctor is it?"

"Yes I was an army doctor. Retired now. I work at the clinic." John didn't really enjoy talking about his work. After being in the army working at a clinic seemed like the most boring thing ever. But Sherlock didn't seem to think so.

"Fascinating." he said as though he had never met or seen a doctor in his life. John thought he might be being sarcastic but one look at his still smiling face told him he in fact was not.

"I s'pose so. And you?"

Sherlock's smile seemed to get even bigger, if that were possible. "Oh me?! I just photograph things." He tried to sound normal but there was excitement behind his words as if no one had ever asked him what he did before. "Free lance mostly, people like my photos but I can't seem to stay in one place."

"What kind of things do you photograph." The fact that he didn't have a boring old office job like everybody else made him seem all the more interesting. John definitely wanted to get to know him.

"Things I like." Sherlock looked thoughtfully around the park again and pointed to the man reading his newspaper. "I would photograph him, if I got it at the right angle with the right lighting it would be the most amazing photo ever." He picked up his camera which had been sitting in his lap, he put it up to his face and adjusted the lens. John could hear a little snap as Sherlock took a picture of the man. He smiled as he put his camera back into his lap.

John was slightly confused. How could a photo of an old bloke be the best photo ever? "But why would you want to take a photo of him. There's nothing interesting about him."

Sherlock was still looking at the man. "Because he is very interesting, if you think about it." He looked at John still smiling then gestured to the old man. "Look at him again."

John looked but there was nothing out of the ordinary or brilliant about him. He was wearing a light brown flat cap that matched his jacket. His black trousers came up over his ankles revealing grey patterned socks. His face was flat and squashy and his nose was quite large.

Sherlock was looking at John, watching his face. Hoping he would see what Sherlock saw.

He didn't. "I still don't understand what you find so amazing about him."

Sherlock looked slightly disappointed. "Well you see, he looks as if he shouldn't really be here at all." Seeing John's expression he went into a more detailed explanation.

"If I were to photograph him and make the picture black and white it would look like he belonged there. Like he belonged in the world when everything was black and white. But if I took a photograph and didn't change it at all he would look slightly out of place around all the color because he doesn't belong to that time. The picture would look wrong."

John could see it now. He imagined the man in a black and white photograph and then in a color one. But what Sherlock found interesting about that he didn't know.

Sherlock could tell he didn't quite see what he meant. "I see the world in pictures Dr. Watson. I imagine everything I see as being a photograph. I can see what it would look like then what it actually looks like. That man looks like he just stepped out of a photograph from the 1940s and it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful opportunity to put him back into one." with that Sherlock got to his feet and moved to a bench closer to the man took a photograph of him then returned to sit next to John.

"That's not something you hear everyday." John said watching Sherlock with a new kind of respect. He had never met anyone who would find an old man so intriguing.

"Well most people don't see what I see." He looked sad, lonely even. John knew that face all too well. It was the face of a man who didn't have many friends, a man who wished he wasn't like he was.

"I think that's brilliant." John said trying to cheer him up. He really meant it though. Sherlock smiled again, a wide smile that meant no one had ever said anything like that to him before.

* * *

The weeks passed and John spent most of his Saturday afternoons listening to Sherlock talk about people and how fantastic they were. But the really fantastic one was Sherlock. Everywhere he looked he saw something different. He could make a man walking his dog into a thing of beauty, a woman out for a jog was enticing, a child holding an ice cream screamed amazing. And John noticed the way Sherlock's eyes lit up every time he saw something he wanted to photograph.

Sherlock was perfectly content rambling on to John about how solitary and organic the stone fountain looked. They way the stone was so still and cold compared to the water spewing out of the top of it. Sometimes he would catch John staring at him but he didn't mind. He liked his company, he was very interested in hearing what Sherlock had to say and he never seemed bored.

One Saturday they were discussing how the rays of sun shone through the trees when John said something that made Sherlock go silent.

"I like the way it looks in the spring. You can see the sunlight through the leaves and every so often there is break and.."

"I won't be able to come here any more." John said flatly. He had been trying to tell Sherlock all day but he just didn't know how. He decided it would be easier to just tell him flat out. "I have to take extra shifts at the clinic. See I'm having trouble paying my rent and I need a bit of extra money so.."

"Rent." It was Sherlock's turn to interrupt. "If you're having trouble paying rent I can help y..."

"No that's not what I meant. I don't want you giving me any money." John had always refused to take money from people and he most certainly wasn't going to let Sherlock give him any.

"No no I just meant..." He looked away searching for the right words. "Well I've been in need of a flat mate, and well... I just thought that since you... of course I can understand if you don't..."

"Really?" John hadn't expected that at all. He would love to move into a flat with Sherlock. He wouldn't have to take extra shifts and would get to see him everyday. "That would be brilliant!"

Sherlock looked stunned at first then his face broke into his familiar smile. "Are you sure? You would really want to move into the flat with me?"

"Of course I would." John had been looking forward to his Saturdays with Sherlock lately. He enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed watching him talk. Something about this man made John feel happy and safe. He didn't know just what it was yet but if had the opportunity to move in with him and find out he would definitely take it. "Yes lets go now. Where is it?"

Sherlock was very surprised that John had agreed, he was even more surprised that he was so excited to move in.

"221B Baker Street."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Listen**

It didn't take long for John to get settled into the upstairs bedroom at the flat. It was fairly nice, there was a fireplace, a full kitchen both on the ground and second floor, and a rather large lounge. To his surprise when he arrived he found that Sherlock had already been living here.

"See you're already settled in." said John sarcastically..

Mrs. Hudson the landlady had been helping John get settled and heard his comment from the doorway, "Not many people can deal with his rambling."

At this Sherlock smiled, "John would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely, thanks."

"Mrs. Hudson would you mind making some tea?"

She made an annoyed face at Sherlock. "Alright but I'm not your housekeeper." with that she left.

Mrs. Hudson was an older lady and rather short. She walked a lot faster than you would think someone her age would walk. She had a determined look about her, like she always got things done.

Sherlock was watching John carefully, hoping that he liked the flat. He was nervous, he felt that if he said or did the wrong thing that John would leave. He very much did not want that to happen. But when John looked at Sherlock he was smiling and this calmed him down some.

"Do you like it?" he asked warily hoping he would say yes.

"Its nice. Much better than my old place," he took another look around the flat, "feels more like home."

Sherlock grinned feeling accomplished. "Well its been mine for quite some time so I would hope so."

* * *

John spent most of his free time now in the flat with Sherlock who had just revealed that he was exceptionally good at playing the violin. He became ecstatic when John had asked him to play. Which of course he did and John loved every minute of it, grinning from ear to ear. Sherlock had just finished playing his latest piece for John and Mrs. Hudson, who had joined them at the sound of the violin.

"I can't believe you wrote that! It was absolutely brilliant!" said John beaming.

Sherlock's face turned a deep shade of pink at this, the only person who had every complimented his songs was Mrs. Hudson.

"Is that a new one Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked, "Its wonderful!" she exclaimed with a proud look.

"Its just a little something I've been working on," he said his face less pink and smiling. He set down his violin and stretched his long neck and arms. "Anyone hungry?"

"You haven't got anything in the fridge dear. I checked it this morning." Mrs. Hudson always reminded Sherlock that she wasn't his housekeeper but she took rather good care of him. Always making sure he had food and that he ate it, for he sometimes skipped meals. She was very motherly, Sherlock had told John that she didn't have any children of her own so he let her take care of him. She had begun to do the same with John as well, sometimes she took a little too much time out of her day looking after him. She would ask if he missed his old place, if he was adjusting well. He thought that she, much like Sherlock, was scared that he would leave.

"Its just.. I worry about him." She had told John after asking for the third time if he was doing alright. "He's been on his own for a while and well.. ever since he met you he's been happier."

This had made John wonder, in what way did she mean 'every since he met you he's been happier'? Certainly she didn't think he and Sherlock were together! Because John wasn't... and of course Sherlock wasn't... but then he thought, he had never in fact seen Sherlock actually notice a woman. Of course he had noticed them on his days at the park, but that wasn't in any romantic sort of way. Maybe he could be... but it didn't matter because John wasn't! He had had girlfriends in the past, nothing ever too serious but they had in fact been women.

But then, he did sometimes catch himself staring at Sherlock. Watching the way his lips curved when he smiled, the way he placed his hands under his chin when he was concentrating, the way his eyes lit up when he got excited... oh and his eyes...

"Well its not my fault you don't know how to go grocery shopping!" John was jerked out of his daydream by Mrs. Hudson, who was bickering with Sherlock about his lack of shopping abilities.

"I didn't think it would be a problem if you just did it for me Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm you landlady NOT your housekeeper! I don't do your shopping for you!" Mrs. Hudson stormed out the door and down the stairs, they could hear a door slam below.

"Sorry about that." Sherlock said quickly, "She can a be a bit dramatic at times." He gave John a reassuring smile.

"It's fine I can do it."

"Do what?" Sherlock hadn't been expecting this reaction because he looked slightly confused. Something that never happened.

"I'll do the shopping. If you like."

"Really?" He definitely wasn't expecting _that. _

"If I'm going to live here I might as well pitch in right? Honestly its the least I can do."

Sherlock smiled at his new flat mate, he was much kinder than you would think. He really hadn't expected John to be so keen to move in with him in the first place, he also hadn't expected him to enjoy the violin so much. John kept surprising him, which if you could believe was very hard to do, and Sherlock was starting to like this man more than he had thought.

"Well its a bit late to go now so why don't we just order take away?" John asked.

"Yes that's fine." But Sherlock wasn't interested in eating right now, because right now he wanted to compose. Whenever he felt that there was something missing in a photograph, or in anything really he would compose to fill in the gaps. He felt that if he couldn't fill in the gaps with thought that he could do it with music, and right now there was something about John that he couldn't quite understand.

Why was he so quick to accept Sherlock's offer to come live with him? And why in fact had Sherlock offered in the first place? He barely knew this man and yet he felt the need to ask, he knew why though. From the very first moment they met something about John had interested Sherlock, he didn't know what, but he was going to find out. So he began to compose a lovely melody, he imagined it sounded like Autumn, if Autumn had a sound. It's what he would have thought would be playing when he and John first met.

The silence between words was faster, the words themselves were slower and controlled. When Sherlock pointed out the old man was a more thoughtful tune, it was John figuring out what he meant. His realization was loud and at the same time soothing.

John watched Sherlock compose this new song with amazement. When something didn't sound right Sherlock would shake his head and mutter something that sounded like 'oh no' and 'definitely not that'. When he found something he liked in the music he would smile and write down the notes. He was in his own world and John couldn't help but want to be apart of it. He wanted to now what went on in that strange mind of his.

* * *

It was 3 am of John's second week living in the flat and he awoke to the sound of music coming from downstairs. He threw on his robe and crept quietly from his upstairs bedroom down to the lounge where he found Sherlock playing his violin. He seemed to be dancing as he moved the bow across the strings creating the most beautiful music. John watched quietly from the doorway hoping not to disturb him. After a few seconds Sherlock turned around and almost dropped his instrument when he noticed John standing by the door.

"Good lord how long have you been there!?" he usually wasn't startled easily but this had never happened before, he wasn't used to being interrupted when he played.

"Not long." John smiled as he watched Sherlock turn a shade of pink. "I heard something and came down."

Sherlock placed his violin on the table and picked up his cup of tea, "I do apologize for that, I couldn't sleep and I didn't really think I would wake anyone." He took a sip of his tea and offered some to John.

"Thanks," he took the tea and sat down in the armchair across from Sherlock. "Do you do this often?"

"Mostly when I'm awake. I find sleep to be a bit dull compared to everything else."

"I can understand that, you being the way you are."

Sherlock thought this through for a moment, "And what way would that be?"

"Uh well..." John shifted in his seat a little, "you're different than most people are, that's for certain."

"Good different or bad different?" he couldn't help but smile at this. He felt like John had just given him a compliment, and by the way he was squirming in his chair he obviously didn't do that often.

"I'm not quite sure," John didn't meet Sherlock's eyes, he didn't want to give him the wrong impression but right now he didn't know what the wrong impression was. "But I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Sherlock peered at John over his cup as he took another sip of tea. When he was finished he placed it back on the saucer not taking his eyes away from the older man in front of him. "You know John I can't help but notice that you too are different than most people."

John could see a mischievous little smile playing on Sherlock's face which made him smile too, "And in what way do you mean different Mr. Holmes?"

The younger man couldn't keep the smile on his face from broadening, "Well I shall let you know when I figure it out."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone who decided this was good enough to read the third chapter! Sorry it took so long but with school starting and everything... This chapter might be a tad bit boring but it had to happen please stay with me the next one will be better. This one was basically setting up for future chapters so please don't lose faith in me yet. I love reviews so if you like or don't like it please tell me whats up. I've got to put a little disclaimer here so I do not own Sherlock I just own this story that I am very happy with and hopefully you guys are too.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Holmes**

The next morning, John felt quite at ease for the first time in a long time. Most nights he would have nightmares and wake up in a cold sweat. When this happened he could never get back to sleep. But after all the time he spent with Sherlock, not worrying not caring about anything but that glorious man, he had slept soundly.

When he came down for breakfast he found Sherlock in his armchair twiddling with some dials on his precious camera. By the state of his robes John could tell that he probably hadn't went to sleep at all that night. At the sound of footsteps Sherlock turned his head and smiled when he saw John, "I was thinking of paying that old bench of yours a visit today."

John headed to the fridge and found what he had expected, nothing. "Yeah? I was thinking more along the lines of heading to the shop for at least _something _to eat."

"That thought hadn't crossed my mind." the younger man got up and walked into the kitchen opposite his flat mate. "But then again my mind has been on other things lately."

John felt that this comment was directed towards him and he was quite flattered by it. He smirked and looked up at the tall man smiling at him.

"Well you can sort out your thoughts while I go to the shop." John began to head back to his room when Sherlock stopped him.

"Mind if I come? I mean I have a few things I would like to get."

"Yeah of course. I'll just go get dressed then." John went up to his bedroom, got dressed, and came back to the kitchen all within ten minutes.

Sherlock of course was still in his bath robes admiring his camera. He looked up at John when he came back noticed immediately that he was still in his bath robes and got up to change. Unlike John, Sherlock was very concerned with how he looked. He returned to the kitchen in less than an hour but he had a very disgruntled look on his face.

"What could have possibly taken you so long?" John was quite irritated with him at the moment.

"Have you seen my scarf? I can't find it anywhere." He began searching the room with no luck.

"Couldn't you just not where it? Not like it's that cold outside anyway." John didn't really think it mattered if he had on a scarf or not but Sherlock seemed to think otherwise. He shot John an irritated look and continued his search but to no avail. He let out a large sigh and shook his head.

"I feel naked without my scarf!" He raised his head and looked above him as if his scarf would magically appear on the ceiling.

John couldn't stop the image that popped into his head at that comment. He blushed and closed his eyes trying to clear his mind but it only made it worse. His cheeks burned pink as he squeezed his eyes tighter, he pictured a patient with a nasty infection, that got the image away quickly enough. _What the bloody hell was that all about?!_ he thought to himself after silently clearing his mind of a scandalous Sherlock.

"C'mon don't be such a drama queen we can get you another scarf." still blushing from his thoughts John led the way down the stairs. He heard Sherlock mumble something that sounded like "But I love that scarf.' and decided it was better to just ignore his comment.

When they got outside Sherlock hailed a cab. John was amazed at how he never failed to get one within seconds. They hopped in gave the address and settled into the back of the cab.

"So what did you want to get?" John asked checking his wallet making sure he had enough money for the cabbie and groceries.

"Hm?" The younger man had been distracted by something and didn't hear what he said.

"You said you wanted to get a few things. What were they?" He was only half paying attention but he managed to catch the question this time.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I wanted some apples." He was still staring out the window a new distraction catching his eye.

"Apples?"

After a few seconds he finally turned towards John, the thing that had distracted him was growing smaller in the distance, "Yes apples. I'm very fond of them."

John couldn't help but let out a small laugh that he failed to stifle, "You're very _fond _of apples?"

Sherlock smiled at John's amusement of his statement, "I am. When I was young my mother would buy them for my brothers and I because we never ate anything else."

This took John aback. He had never heard anything said about Sherlock's family, nothing of them mentioned in all the conversations they had in the two short months they had known each other. They were a mystery to John, what were they like? where they kind? where they strict on their children? He could imagine a little Sherlock Holmes being scolded for daydreaming in school. And had he said brothers? surely he had. What on earth could they look like? Images of a younger and an older boy both resembling Sherlock filled John's head. He could see three boys with dark hair and pale skin, high cheekbones and fierce eyes. Then he imagined a father and a mother both with the same features. Imagining Sherlock's family was odd enough seeing as he never spoke of them, but a question arose that made John stop. _Would they like me?_

But that didn't matter did it? They were simply friends, flatmates. Many parents didn't approve of their children's friends. But John couldn't help but feel like he wanted them to like him, if they ever met that is. And now he was interested. He very much wanted to meet the parents of this strange human being. If that's even what he was.

But John didn't have enough time to ask about his family because they had arrived at the shop.

* * *

Two hours, four grocery bags, and a half full fridge later John threw himself into his armchair stretched his legs out and closed his eyes. He knew it wasn't easy keeping Sherlock's attention for long but he didn't think it would be hard to take him shopping. How very wrong he was.

The second they got there Sherlock saw a homeless man and insisted on staring at him for five minutes because he didn't have his camera and he wanted to remember every detail. Then when they finally got into the store they stood by the apples for ten minutes while Sherlock decided which ones he wanted. Some where too bright he had said, some to dull. After an hour of him deciding which foods were up to his standards they spent another hour looking around the clothing stores for a scarf. He wanted one exactly like the one he had because he didn't like the feel of these or the color of those. John was ready to punch him by the second hour but they had finally found a scarf and made their way back to the flat. All John wanted at that moment was a nice long nap, but Sherlock was too hyper to let that happen.

"Fancy a trip to the park?" He was standing next to John's chair still in his coat, sporting his new scarf.

John looked up at the younger man, he wanted nothing more than for him to calm down. He figured the only way for that to happen was if he did what the man wanted.

"Why not?" John got up slowly, the hyper man was halfway down the stairs already. John didn't expect to be waited on as he slumped down the stairs, but to his surprise Sherlock was waiting for him at the front door with a smile on his face and his camera in his hand.

...

The park was fairly empty for a Saturday, but next week was Halloween so everyone was most likely out getting ready for that. It was nice though, the boys could talk without fear of interruption or of being overheard. Not that anything they were saying shouldn't be overheard just that John didn't really like people sticking there noses in other people's business. That's why he tried to avoid crowded places, he was a very reserved man, unless you made him angry. Then you should fear for you life and get away as fast as you can. But really all he wanted to do was find out about Sherlock's family, the one that he let slip actually exist.

John didn't know how Sherlock felt about the subject, he didn't want to make him mad if he didn't want to talk about them, he just wanted to know. He was sure that Sherlock would tell him if he wanted but there was only one way to find out.

"Sherlock, why do you never talk about your family?" the question didn't seem to catch him off guard, in fact he smiled at it. He didn't seem aggravated or angry and that was a good thing.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me about them all day." He was still smiling, looking off into the distance. John could tell his mind was venturing to other places.

"Why? I mean how did you know I would ask?"

"Because I mentioned them in the cab, I saw the look on your face. You wanted to ask. I guess it just wasn't the right place." he was still smiling. His smile gave John confidence, he knew now that any questions put forth would be answered and there wouldn't be an issue.

"So ask away! I've got nothing to hide." Sherlock held up his arms as if to show that he wasn't literally hiding anything.

"Well I guess I just want to know about them. What they do, what they're like." John looked around the almost empty park. He didn't really think he would get this far so he hadn't thought out what he wanted to say.

"Well to answer your first question, there's really not much to talk about. My elder brother Mycroft is the head of several major companies, he knows everything and everyone, or at least he thinks he does. Mum and Dad are retired, they live in the country somewhere." He smirked, obviously satisfied with his short answer but John wasn't.

"You said you had more than one brother. What about the other one? What's he like?" John didn't' want a detailed description in writing but he wanted as much as Sherlock was willing to give.

"Oh," his smirk faded away to a grim expression, he looked down at the camera in his hands then back up at John. "We don't really keep in touch with him any more. He moved away the moment he could and we haven't seen him since."

He was obviously not comfortable talking about this distant brother of his so John didn't press the matter any further. He knew all he needed to know for now and they sat quietly listening to the distant chirping of birds and the hum of insects.

After a while John was getting hungry. Knowing Sherlock hadn't eaten anything today he was determined to get some food in him. So they headed back to the flat, Sherlock reluctantly. When they got back tea was made by John, and an apple was eaten by Sherlock.

Halfway through their 'meal' Sherlock looked at John and sat his half-eaten apple on the counter. "John I never told you thank you." John looked at him, he was slightly caught off guard.

Sherlock looked a little nervous his face was a bit paler than usual. John wasn't sure but he looked like he might cry, he felt the sudden urge to touch him. To place his hands on his slim shoulders and let him know that whatever it was, whatever he wanted to say, it was ok to say. John didn't like the look on his flatmates face. He wanted to comfort the younger man, but didn't want to overstep his boundaries, whatever that might mean to him.

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, "Thank you for being... my friend. Thank you for listening to me. It's very hard to have all these thoughts in here," he pointed to his head then scratched at it as though he was trying to get something out, "and not have someone to voice them to. It's lonely, I was lonely. I never really had any friends." He looked at John as if to ask if it was ok to continue, he obviously didn't want to overstep his boundaries either.

John gave him a silent nod and he slowly went on, "Now I'm not so bored all the time. Not so lonely. And I just wanted to let you know that i'm grateful for that. For everything that you have done for me. It may not seem like much to you but to me it is." He was silent a moment, he caught himself looking at John's hands and looked away before he noticed.

John didn't know quiet what to say, but soon enough he found the words and blurted them out. "I never told you thank you either Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at John, there was the faintest of smiles appearing on his face, he stayed silent though, allowing John to continue. And so he did.

"I've never met anyone like you before..." he was struggling with words. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing and he didn't do it often. But it was Sherlock and John felt like he could say anything to him. "And you have showed me the world... from your eyes that is, and I just wanted to say thank you for showing me that the world isn't all just boring everyday things. It's so much more than that, its... its... its beautiful. And I never would have seen that.. if it weren't for you."

Sherlock looked as if he wanted to do something but thought better of it, instead he looked at John, at his eyes. For a moment the two men just looked at each other, both minds going in different directions but ultimately coming to the same conclusion.

They both knew what was happening, Sherlock of course had realized much sooner than John but they both understood.

There was a painful urge to be closer to one another, but neither moved. Both waiting for the other.

_Why the hell is he just sitting there looking at me like that?! _John's fingers were twitching, almost reaching out to the younger man in front of them, standing here was doing neither of them any good. _To hell with this! If he won't do anything I damn sure will! _And he moved.


End file.
